


Bit By Bit (We're Torn Apart)

by fiadhfajita



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiadhfajita/pseuds/fiadhfajita
Summary: What if Stiles had been at the loft as well as Cora when the alphas attacked? Derek knows that he can't help anyone whilst being impaled by a pipe, but how can he cope when faced with the reality that he might lose his mate as well as his baby sister?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 101





	Bit By Bit (We're Torn Apart)

**Author's Note:**

> [RE-POST! I accidentally deleted my previous account (ghostlywhitedirewolf) so am now reuploading all my old fics]
> 
> AN:  
> Like toy soldiers...  
> So, it’s been 2 years since I wrote Sterek fanfic!? This is a very late Christmas present for ao3-tigerion. I hope you like it! I’ve changed it a little, to have Cora unconscious and Ennis restraining Stiles, as that fitted my purpose better. I also swap POVs half way through from Derek to Stiles. I’ve sectioned it off so that it’s obvious and makes sense.  
> Prompt: Okay, so I need this one specific to be written if it hasn’t already been. I need one where Stiles was in the loft with Derek and Cora when Deucalion, Ennis and Kali arrived for their not so fun pow-wow. I don’t know why I need this so badly, maybe its the way Derek was shivering at the end of the confrontation, body curled in and trying to heal from what should have and easily could have been a mortal wound. I mean seriously, the organs that were affected… perhaps the upper part of his small intestines, a little bit of his stomach just to name a few were most likely shredded by that pole. (How he was even managing to stay on all fours is beyond me, I would’ve been like, nope, not gonna happen as it is high time to get acquainted with this floor)   
> But seriously, can you imagine just how much more worried Derek would have been had his human been there? He was already trying to protect his baby sister and most likely feeling like he’d failed at that.   
> As for Stiles…. well I’m sure you guys could imagine how he would react. Snarky and a little snippy, perhaps? Or would he have been instructed to hide somewhere in the loft the moment the alarm started going off?

-O-

Derek was barely aware of what Deucalion was saying to him, eyes flying from his sister to Stiles, who was being held still by Ennis, the larger man’s claws dangerously close to Stiles’ neck. That, and only that, was the reason Stiles had been so quiet when Kali had shoved the pole through Derek’s stomach.

Derek had hardly heard the teenager’s sharp intake of breath over his own agonised roar; every part of him wanted to writhe away from her, to try and get them all out of this quickly deteriorating situation. He didn’t want to die, but he would rather it be him than his sister or his mate. Enough people had died for him, _because of him;_ he wouldn’t let the two most important people in his life come to that fate.

Blood dripped down the pole and Derek could barely find it in himself to breathe, eyes searching out Stiles’, the younger boy’s radiating a different kind of agony than Derek was feeling, but no less strong in magnitude. His eye’s locked with Stiles’ and Derek tried to convey his apology.

_I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you both safe._

_I’m sorry that I can’t save you._

_I’m sorry that I’m not enough._

_I’m just sorry._

If he weren’t so finely attuned to Stiles’ body, he would have probably missed the small noise that the brunet made at the back of his throat, a small sound of agony that would have been practically undetectable to anyone who didn’t know him well.

But Derek was his mate; he knew how the younger boy’s boy worked so intimately that it might as well have been an extension of his own.

And now they could both be killed because Derek hadn’t been quick enough, hadn’t fought hard enough. They could all die because Derek hadn’t been good enough to protect them.

Anger flared through his veins at the situation and he turned his head to glare at Kali, his claws digging into the concrete floor below him in an attempt to ground himself, he didn’t know how he’d survive otherwise.

His stomach, spleen and possibly his intestines had been punctured, but luckily his heart and lungs didn’t seem to have been hit, despite him feeling like both organs were about to explode. Staying on all fours was becoming an effort, his accelerated healing only serving to increase his pain as fibres knitted themselves back together only to be ripped open again with every involuntary movement of his body. Cora’s unconscious form lay in a pool of water, but there didn’t appear to be any blood; her heartbeat was steady despite the stress of the fight. She continued to lie unnoticed in the aftermath of the uneven fight. Derek’s wolf knew that the threat against her, although was great, paled significantly next to the threat against Stiles and Scott. If he were to die, alpha status would pass to whoever murdered him, not her. She wasn’t strong enough to fight for the status back, but Scott and Stiles would. Stiles, the scorned mate, and Scott who never bowed down to any authority figure other than his mother.

They would fight to free their pack, to _save_ their pack. The alpha pack had murdered their own packs; there was no reason to leave this one alive.

He felt Kali twist the pole, her clawed toes preventing him from rising up or taking a swipe at her and the feeling of hopelessness rose in his stomach, even stronger than the agony coursing through him. His whole body shook with the effort of remaining upright, with the knowledge that he was powerless to do anything but wait and see what Deucalion wanted. He couldn’t save any of them even without the pole through his abdomen; his injuries were too great, they wouldn’t heal quickly enough to allow him to fight with any real effect.

It was like watching his family burn all over again. Different circumstances, but the same result. The two people in this loft were all the family he had, his baby sister and the boy he loved. Both doomed because of him.

Deucalion folded his walking cane and knelt before him with a smirk.

“Sorry about this Derek, I asked Kali to be gentle.”

“This _is_ me being gentle.” Kali emphasised her point with another twist of the pipe, Derek gritting his teeth with the effort of not crying out, breathing coming much more quickly as he felt more of his organs tear.

“Let them go,” he gasped, unable to lift his head for a moment until the intense burst of pain subsided to the previously constant agony. “Do what you want with me, but– let them both go.”

“No!” Stiles choked out, shaking his head against Ennis’ hold despite the claws that scraped his neck with every movement. His hands twitched by his sides in the familiar way that they always did when he were stressed or annoyed.

“Protective isn’t he? It makes a change seeing him quiet, that clever mouth of his can be brought into check by some things I see. Or have you already found a way? There must be some technique to being around him without killing him. He’s not what I would have expected of your mate.” Deucalion’s smile widened as he heard the low rumble start in Derek’s chest when Stiles’ face fell.

Derek knew that Deucalion had hit a nerve with the teenager. He always worried about being wanted, of annoying the people around him. It had taken him too long to realise that Derek wanted him there, rather than merely tolerated.

“Ah ah,” Deucalion chastised. “Don’t be like that. The stress isn’t good for you, not in your state. Who knows how long you can withstand that kind of injury. I can already hear your heart stuttering. Five minutes, five hours, I don’t know how long, but eventually it will give in.”

“So let them go and get on with it,” Derek snarled, the air catching in his lungs as they strained for air. Maybe his lungs had been punctured after all, that would explain why it was suddenly so difficult to breathe.

“So, let’s chat.” Deucalion smirked, waving a hand at Ennis, the large wolf releasing his grip on Stiles who ran forward, halting only when Derek raised a shaking hand of his own.

“No, Stiles.”

“Der–” he started, but quickly trailed off when Derek shot him a pained glance, turning the force of his glare onto Kali. “He’s no use to you if he’s dead can he? If you wanted us dead, we’d be dead. So what do you want? He won’t join your pack, if that’s what you’re after. Derek’s not a cold blooded killer like all of you.”

“Stiles, stop. Just take Cora and get out of here.” Derek was surprised at the strength in his voice despite him gasping for air, blood trickling from between his lips.

“No. If you’re not leaving neither am I, and I know Cora would say the same if she were conscious. Just tell us what you have to say and leave before the rest of the pack start to wonder where we are.” Stiles snapped, one arm flailing towards Deucalion and then the door, cheeks reddening with anger.

Deucalion glanced between the impaled werewolf and the teenage boy before reaching out to run his fingers over Derek’s face. “You look just like your mother, do you know that?”

Derek imagined that Stiles could almost feel the snarl that reverberated through his chest with the power of it.

“Get out.”

“Maybe I’ll make you kill him first. He won’t make you the alpha, but he will hurt the most. Then your baby sister; your only real living relative. After all, Peter doesn’t exactly count, a sociopath.” The alpha grinned as Derek sucked in another breath, much more shallow this time, his heart fluttering like that of a cornered mockingbird.

A life so fragile and small, so easily taken away, Derek knew this. It would only take a swipe of claws to finish him off.

“But no, I won’t. Not today, I’m not your Uncle.”

Derek felt the pole move, the pressure of Kali’s foot on his back increasing as she used him as leverage to pull the pole upwards, the jagged metal slicing up his already destroyed organs as excruciating flashes of white hot agony shot through him. Every inch of the pipe brought with it more torture and Derek wondered if it would ever end. His thighs shook with the effort of keeping himself upright and his elbows began to give way. Blood oozed through his teeth like a leaking tap; he could feel his lungs filling with it and he could only pray that this would end soon. Cora was stirring in the corner and he hoped she wouldn’t wake to see him like this, on his knees, weak and pitiful and at the mercy of a psychopath.

He was supposed to protect them.

He couldn’t even protect himself.

After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the pipe exit his body; the relief leaving him lightheaded and he felt himself crumple, sliding sideways onto the cold, concrete floor, unable to fight off the impending darkness much longer, but still cognizant enough to see the alpha pack leave, Kali leading Deucalion as Ennis walked beside them.Derek’s whole body trembled and not even the sound of Stiles’ voice, the feeling of Stiles’ hands on his face and shoulder telling him that everything would be okay was enough to keep him awake. Unable to fight it any more, Derek allowed himself to be dragged into the murky pits of nothingness.

-O-

“Derek!” Stiles cried desperately, trying to uncurl the werewolf so that he could get a better look at the injuries. “Cora! We need to get him off of the floor before he either bleeds out or the wound gets infected. No, you need to get him off the floor because there’s no way I can lift him. We need towels or bandages or something. Fuck, do you even have those kinds of things with your freaky werewolf healing? How’s his heart, Deucalion said it was weak. Do you think that moving him will make it worse? They always tell you not to move someone who’s injured!”

“Stiles, breathe. Your heart is what I’m most worried about right now. He will heal, I promise. We need to stem the bleeding though, once we’ve done that, his body will fix his internal organs first and only then will you start to see the actual healing. He’s lost a lot of blood, so it’s going to take a little longer but he will heal. His heart sounds stronger even in the last thirty seconds.” Cora told him firmly, clutching at Stiles’ shoulders in an attempt to still his erratic movements.

Stiles nodded, unwillingly moving away from Derek to pull a bed sheet from a the linen cupboard, pressing it against the older man’s abdomen, grimacing when the white material quickly because a dark red colour.

Derek stirred suddenly, eyes flying open as he twisted his head away from them both, stomach convulsing as blood was forced from his mouth. A guttural groan of pain escaping his lips and Stiles didn’t even want to imagine the pain he was in.

“Hey Der, you with us?”

The werewolf’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, brows furrowing as he attempted to process what Stiles had said, before he nodded slightly, leaning into the younger man’s warm hand when Stiles used one sleeve to wipe a corner of Derek’s mouth.

“You’re going to be okay Derek, I promise, I’ll get Deaton here to come and look at you okay. Cora’s going to stay here with you whilst I go and call the pack. It’ll be fine.” Stiles tried to reassure him, giving him what he knew was a mangled smile, but the werewolf shook his head and gripped Stiles’ wrist gently, thumb finding his pulse point as it so often did, Derek’s own way of comforting himself, proving that Stiles was in fact alive.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Derek rasped. “I couldn’t– I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.”

Stiles felt his eyes widen and he quickly shook his head. “Don’t even think like that. Don’t you dare.”

“Stiles, we can move him.” Cora cut in, throwing one of Derek’s arms over her shoulder as she braced herself to lift him, Stiles immediately copying her, both wincing at Derek’s sharp intake of breath when they heaved him upright, trying to be careful, but their efforts proving to be pointless.

Their progress over to the bed seemed unbearably slow, Cora bearing the brunt of most of Derek’s weight, Stiles helping as much as he could, but it seemed to take an age to cross the floor and lower Derek down onto the bed.

“I’ll call Deaton and Scott, you stay with him. He needs you more than me.” Cora told him, holding her hand out for his phone.

Stiles nodded obediently, passing it over and turning back to Derek, eyes roaming over the sweat that had gathered on his brow.

Hazel and honey eyes met his, a slight tinge of blue creeping in around the edge of his iris, a reminder that Derek’s wolf lurked just under the surface, angry and fighting for control. They shone with poorly concealed pain, not all of it physical and Derek’s whole posture was slumped in a mixture of defeat and shame.

“Hey, don’t do this to yourself okay?” Stiles ran a hand over his face, perching on the side of the bed slowly, trying not to jostle Derek too much. “This is not your fault, you couldn’t have stopped this, not you two against three of the alpha pack. We don’t blame you, you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“You both could have died. And I couldn’t protect you.”

“You did protect us, Derek. We’re both still here, we’re both unharmed. Derek, he wanted you to kill us yourself, but you didn’t. If you honestly believe that we think any less of you, then maybe Kali impaled your head too.” Stiles kissed his forehead and gave him a small smile, one hand finding Derek’s own whilst the other cupped the side of the man’s neck.

“But–”

“No buts Der. You kept Ennis from killing me when he walked in and you managed to keep the attention away from Cora. None of us knew that the alphas would attack here. If they’d targeted somewhere else, the result might have been even worse.”

Stiles gratefully accepted the scissors Cora handed him when she returned, holding them up to Derek and waiting for his nod of confirmation before he started to cut off the Derek’s ever-present Henley.

“I liked this one, grey is a good colour on you.” Stiles mumbled, pealing the cloth away from Derek’s chest as well as the bed sheet, breathing a sigh of relief to see that blood didn’t immediately being pouring out, a sure sign that the werewolf’s healing had kicked in, the ugly hole in Derek’s abdomen narrower than it had been before, but still a disconcerting sight.

He paused when he felt Derek’s fingers slide along the underside of his chin gently, the touch feather light but yet warming, a rush of affection causing Stiles to look up worriedly.

“I could never hurt you– either of you.” His voice was soft, incredulous. “You’re both all I have left.”

Cora’s face melted and she sat on the opposite side of the bed, clutching Derek’s right hand tightly. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”

Derek’s eyelids fluttered, a look of exhaustion washing over his features and he nodded slightly, the transformation moving over him as though he had been drugged. All his energy being used on his superhuman healing.

“Sleep Derek, we’ll both still be here when you wake up.” Stiles promised gently, kissing the bloody knuckles of Derek’s left hand.

“Don’t go,” Derek mumbled, muzzily, head sinking back into the pillows.

“We’ll be right here,” Cora told him firmly. “We love you Der.”

“L’ve you b’th too,” the older man murmured, almost incomprehensively.

“I love you. Thank you for saving us,” Stiles whispered, knowing that the wolf would hear him, the edges of his lips quirking when Derek hummed quietly in response. Derek’s colour had already improved, cheeks having lost their deathly pale demeanour slightly, his cheeks tinged with a pink colour that hadn’t come from the smeared blood.

He would be okay, Stiles realised as he stretched himself out on the bed beside his mate, the heat rolling off of him a comfort after the previous terrors.

He had promised to stay right next to Derek, and he didn’t plan on breaking that promise, be it right now, or for the rest of his life.

Stiles could never hurt Derek either.

-O-

_Fin._


End file.
